Warm air traps cool air, exposing it as fog.
this strata of quilted batting cloaks the cattails,
and caresses the lowlands.

Camouflaging itself as beauty,
It bestows sovereignty for small mammals from foraging predators.

Outside it’s veil,
Patient raptors wait for the landscaped comforter to depart.

The victorious sun vanquishes fog’s laced finery.
transporting it back to its relatives, the clouds.

Hunting season begins

Slumber’s uninhibited access to repressed fears,
release symbolic scenarios from the cages of our safety;
spawning tales of fleeting nightmares.

Dawn whisks the cryptic storylines away,
but not before stalling momentarily, like deer,
vanishing into the wilderness of our memories.

Clouds direct shadows through orbital pastures.
Tides, like undulating breathing, rise and fall.

Earth’s tilting rotations create cyclic patterns
Endings produce illusions of finality.
Beginnings have homecomings.

Our Sisyphus inner struggle,
pushes the rock of righteousness and forgiveness
toward endless resolve.

The reaffirming wonderment… and gravity,
keep me from jumping off.